I've joined up with four other western romance authors to bring you a new series of western TIMELESS HEARTS, and there are 12 books currently planned (3 from each author). The series starts with a prequel that sets up the time travel premise, and is FREE to download on Amazon! The first book released on Feb 12, 2017, and a new book will be released every week for then next three weeks, and then every two weeks after that. My first book in the series, TIMELESS HEALING, comes out on March 5th, and today I'm sharing the entire Chapter One.
Click here to go to the Timeless Hearts page on AMAZON to get the free prequel and check out the other books that are out so far in the series.
Timeless Healing - Chapter One
His hands gripped the steering
wheel as if his life depended on it, and he stared straight ahead down the long
stretch of the two-lane highway that disappeared into the far horizon. Chris
Hawley shifted his tired gaze to the rearview mirror. The road was as empty
behind him as it was up ahead. The last car had passed him a good ten minutes
ago.
His old truck got him from one
place to the next, but it wasn’t the most comfortable ride. The shocks were
worn out, turning every bump in the road into a reminder of why he was driving
through the middle of nowhere in the first place.
Chris moved to adjust his
position on the bucket seat. The motion brought a dull ache to his knee, and
his foot pressed down on the accelerator to alleviate the discomfort.
The V-8 engine roared to life and
the old truck surged forward. Chris pulled his knee up to take his foot
completely off the gas, then slammed on the brake. He swerved into the opposite
lane. His upper body jerked as he overcompensated to straighten the vehicle
back into his lane, which made the seatbelt cut into his collarbone. Chris
hissed a curse.
He leaned forward, squeezing his
eyes shut for a moment, then looking out the windshield to focus on the road
ahead. He tapped the gas and the vehicle answered immediately. His fingers once
again wrapped tightly around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned
white. The dull throbbing in his knee increased. Not much longer and the pain
would become unbearable.
A sign sped past him that read:
Heartsbridge
5 miles
Population 8000
That wasn’t the name of the town
he’d been given when he’d been told he’d find a man who went by the name of
Doctor Feelgood. Chris’s eyes dropped to the passenger seat. He released one
hand from the steering wheel and reached for his phone, which luckily hadn’t
launched off the seat a minute ago. Blinking to focus his eyes, he tapped the
screen to find his GPS app. Before he’d left his apartment early this morning,
he’d typed in the location. It looked to be at least another forty miles up ahead.
Chris cursed again, tossing his
phone back onto the seat. After a quick glance out the windshield, he leaned
forward to reach for the knob that opened the glove compartment. The stupid
thing liked to get stuck. He pounded on it with the side of his fist until it
finally budged. The compartment door sprang open, and several pieces of paper,
probably the truck’s registration among others, fluttered to the floor. An
orange prescription bottle rolled out and dropped to the ground.
Damn.
He leaned down as far as his
seatbelt allowed, trying to reach the bottle. His fingers nudged it, and the
blasted thing rolled under the passenger seat. Now he’d have to pull over to
retrieve it.
He straightened, looking out the
windshield. His heart leapt in his chest as a car came directly at him. The
driver honked, and Chris swerved for the second time in less than a few
minutes. He gritted his teeth as his heart continued to hammer against his
ribcage.
He laughed and eased off the gas,
then leaned his head back against the headrest as he inhaled a deep breath.
He’d often thought of finding a way out, but this wasn’t the way to go. Not in
his truck, and not by putting someone else’s life in danger in the process.
With his dumb luck, he might survive a second car crash.
The first buildings of the town
of Heartsbridge moved by, and Chris slowed the truck even more. The last thing
he needed was to get pulled over by a cop for speeding. He had a court date
next week. He didn’t need to add a second one to his itinerary.
Why he even had to show up in
court and give a statement was beyond his comprehension. It had been nearly six
months since the accident. He’d been questioned ad nauseum by the cops while he
lay broken in a hospital bed, and again during his months of rehab while he
learned to use his leg again. Stupid bureaucracy. Why couldn’t they just leave
him alone so he could forget?
Chris punched his fist against
the steering wheel and clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt. He turned the
wheel hard enough to where the tires squealed, and pulled into a parking spot
in front of a building with a large sign that read Heartsbridge Diner. The place didn’t look busy judging by the lone
car a couple of spots over. He had no plans of going inside anyway. He needed
to get his prescription bottle and then get back on the highway.
After unbuckling his seatbelt, he
leaned over the center console and fished for the bottle that was somewhere
under the passenger seat. Several failed attempts later, he sat up and opened
the car door. His knee throbbed and so did his shoulder.
Pushing the squeaky truck door
fully open, he stepped out, grabbing hold of the door as a surge of dizziness
rushed through his head. He’d definitely been in the truck too long. Stretching
his legs for a minute might do him some good. He glanced at the gas gauge.
Probably wouldn’t hurt to fill up on the way out of town.
Chris looked around. There was a
post office next door to the diner, and a few shops along the street. Several
cars rolled up and down the main thoroughfare. Testing his equilibrium, he let
go of the door and moved around the back of the truck to the other side.
Movement out of the corner of his eye made him look up.
A woman walked up the street
toward the diner, wearing jeans and a plain-looking pink blouse. Her auburn
hair was tied back in a ponytail, and swung down her back like a pendulum with
each step she took. She seemed to be moving faster while staring straight at
him. Chris stared back, then shook his head and opened the truck’s passenger
door. He didn’t need to draw anyone’s attention.
The dull pain was back in his
knee as he bent to reach his hand under the car seat, groping for the bottle
that contained what he needed to find relief. Finally, his fingers wrapped
around the little container. By the sound it made, there were only a couple
pills left, which was the reason he was making this long drive in the first
place.
Finding someone who’d prescribe
him more of the medication he needed to dull the pain in his leg was getting
harder and harder. His doctors didn’t understand that he needed the pills, and
had refused to refill his prescription months ago.
His hand trembled slightly while
he opened the bottle and dumped the contents into his palm. He stared at the
two round, yellow pills. The doctor before last had given him the pale-green
ones, which were stronger than these. That’s why he’d run out so fast. He’d
needed to take twice as many to have an effect on the pain. He seemed to be
getting worse, not better.
His head throbbed as he threw the
pills into his mouth. He tilted his head back to make them drop down his
throat, and swallowed. If he sat in his truck for a few minutes and let the
meds take effect, he could be on his way and have a full bottle again in a few
hours.
“Excuse me, you look like you
could use a glass of water, or maybe some coffee.”
Chris turned his head to the
sound of the voice. The redhead who’d stared at him a minute ago approached.
She looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes, despite the smile on her face.
Her hand clutched something around her neck, tied by a blue ribbon. She stopped
in front of his truck and waited.
“I’m good,” he said.
He stepped away from the truck
and slammed the door shut hard enough to make the window rattle. Another wave
of dizziness hit him, and he swayed slightly as he moved around the back of the
truck to get to the driver’s side. The woman was already standing by the door.
“You really look like you could
use a cup of coffee. You look a bit tired.” She plastered on that smile again.
There was a definite note of uncertainty in her voice, and it showed in her
eyes, too. She tilted her head slightly, and frowned, as if she’d rather not be
talking to him.
Chris blinked to clear some of
the fog from his brain. It didn’t help. He’d been up since before the crack of
dawn. Maybe a cup of coffee wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all.
“It’s on the house,” the redhead
coaxed.
“On the house?”
She held out her hand. “I’m Moira
Lockhart. I own the diner here. I was just coming back from running a quick
errand, and –” She broke off her thought and dropped her gaze downward to the
thing around her neck she kept concealed in her hand. Her eyes abruptly lifted
to his face again. “And I noticed you standing there, looking tired.”
Chris wrapped his fingers around
her smaller hand and shook it. “Chris Hawley. How would you know if I look
tired or not from all the way over there?” He nudged his chin in the direction
from which she’d come.
Moira Lockhart slipped her hand
from his and waved it in front of her face in a dismissive gesture. She
laughed. “When you run a diner, you see plenty of people every day. Many come
in after miles and hours on the road, looking for that cup of coffee to wake
them up again.”
Chris glanced at the empty
parking spots. Good thing he’d apparently missed rush hour. He nodded at her.
“All right. Maybe a quick cup of
coffee’ll perk me up again.”
Moira smiled. She let go of the
pendant around her neck. It wasn’t a pendant, however, but an antique-looking
watch. The hands whirred rapidly around the clock-face. The thing was obviously
defective, or maybe the batteries were about to go bad. Not that he cared.
When the woman made no move to
head toward the front door of the diner, Chris raised his brows. Their eyes
met. She still wore that look of uncertainty, as if she was trying to reach
some kind of conclusion about him.
“I don’t need that cup of
coffee,” he said to help her out if she’d changed her mind about offering him
some.
She blinked and shook her head.
“No,” she said quickly. She held her hand out in the direction of the diner.
“No, come on in. I wasn’t sure you were the kind of person I should be –” She
broke off again, not finishing her thought. She laughed again. “Never mind.
This is how it’s supposed to be, and who am I to say otherwise, right?”
Chris stared at her. “Right,” he
answered slowly, letting the word trickle from his lips. This woman clearly
needed more customers. Her lack of business must have made her a bit wacky.
He limped after her, stepping
into the empty diner, despite a little voice nagging in his head that he
shouldn’t. He had somewhere else to be.
“Take any seat in the house,” Moira
called, much more cheerful than she’d sounded outside. She moved around the
counter and poured a cup of coffee.
Chris limped up to the counter,
and took a seat in front of her. Moira set the cup down for him.
“What happened to your leg, if
you don’t mind me asking?”
Chris clenched his jaw. He stared
at the wisps of steam that rose from the cup and curled in a spiral fashion
into the air.
“Car accident,” he mumbled.
Memories flashed before his eyes that he’d rather not see, but they surfaced
every time someone asked him about his leg, or why he favored his right arm and
had a slight bulge in his collarbone.
“When did it happen?” Moira
poured herself a cup of coffee and looked at him with wide, expectant eyes.
“Six months ago. I got out of
rehab for my blown knee and collarbone just recently.”
“Must still hurt pretty bad,
huh?”
He stared at her. Why was she
asking all these questions, and why was he even answering a complete stranger?
The shrinks had already forced him to talk and relive that night over and over.
Why couldn’t they let him forget? He ran a trembling hand over his face and
through his hair.
“Yeah, it hurts.” More than anyone will ever understand.
His voice was nothing more than a
rasping sound. Bitterness consumed him, followed by agonizing heartache. No
matter how many pills he’d swallowed, the pain – both physical and mental –
from the night of the accident, hadn’t gone away. He’d never told anyone the
reason why he and Eric were in that car in the first place. Everyone simply
assumed they’d been two stupid college kids, out drinking and driving.
Moira’s hand reached out and
covered his. Chris flinched and pulled back.
“I saw you take those pills,
Chris. I really don’t think you should be driving right now. I’ve got a
comfortable couch in the back room. You can lie down and sleep for a while.”
Chris blinked at the dizziness
that was growing more pronounced. The pills must be starting to work. He
usually didn’t take more than one, unless he was at home, but for some reason,
finishing off the bottle had seemed like the thing to do. He’d be getting a new
bottle shortly.
“I’ve got somewhere to be.” He
waved her off, and stood from his chair. His hand reached out to grab for the
edge of the counter when his head spun more than before. He really shouldn’t
have taken both pills.
“I insist,” the woman said more
forcefully. “Or I’ll call the sheriff and tell him you’re driving under the
influence.”
She didn’t waver when he stared
at her. He didn’t need trouble with cops. An hour’s rest couldn’t hurt. He’d
still get to where he needed to be to collect his prescription. No doubt he’d
be spending the night in a motel room anyway. It would be too far to drive
home.
“Maybe just for an hour,” he
conceded.
Moira nodded, her satisfied smile
back. Chris’s eyes were once again drawn to the timepiece around her neck.
Those stupid clock hands hadn’t stopped moving.
“Doesn’t that watch bother you?”
he asked when he moved around the counter and followed Moira down the corridor
past the diner’s kitchen.
“No.” She glanced over her
shoulder, still smiling. “It doesn’t always do that. Today must be your lucky
day.”
She opened the door to a small
office. The couch sitting against the far wall beckoned. Chris stepped into the
room and headed for it. He let himself drop onto the soft cushions, then looked
up at Moira, who’d stopped under the doorframe.
“Thanks for letting me crash for
a while.”
She nodded. “No problem. Get some
rest, and when you wake up, I’m sure things will look a whole lot different
than they do right now.”
© Peggy L Henderson 2017
This text may not be copied or shared without permission
